


Mischief Managed

by Sar_Kalu



Series: A String of W.I.P's [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, CrackFic Ahoy!, Drags poor Ron along for the ride, Gen, Not to be taken seriously, Time Travel, WIP, ahem.. Siriusly, and, craziness ensues, harry is the master of death, probable loss of underpants in coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sar_Kalu/pseuds/Sar_Kalu
Summary: Dying unexpectedly, Ron and Harry end up in a new world where they are going to shake things up and do the unexpected. All that’s left is to bet who will lose their underpants first. CrackFic! AU!





	1. Chapter 1

“So, do you remember how we got here?” Ronald Weasley asked his best friend and partner in crime, Harry Potter.

Harry turned to stare at Ron, his green eyes bewildered. “No idea, I was hoping you knew.”

The room the duo had appeared in was white, bland and utterly dull. The floor was carpeted and the walls were padded and had Harry not experienced being sectioned once before, he might have wondered if he was back in the mental asylum. What was worse was that Ron and he were buck naked and apparently eleven years old again. Harry wasn’t sure which of those was the very worst however.

“Isn’t this what that muggle mental asylum looked like?” Ron asked curiously. He had been the one to notice that Harry had actually been kidnapped not just run away. 

“Well, yes; but it isn’t.” Harry sighed. He scanned the room sourly; at least he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t the mental asylum.

“How do you figure that?”

“Have you noticed our lack of clothing and apparent age?” Harry dryly replied, meeting Ron’s eyes. 

Ron stared down at his skinny prepubescent body, noting the lack of hair and development that he was used to in his twenty five year old body. “Huh.”

A door appeared in the centre of the room and a figure stepped through. Cloaked in black and carrying a heavy scythe, the figure stood casually before the two now-eleven-or-twelve-or-thirteen-year-olds (it was a little hard to be sure). Harry felt vaguely cheated that he had died not eight years after killing the Dark Lord while Ron felt like screaming in terror.

“Welcome, Heroes.” Death greeted them blandly. 

“Uh, hi,” Harry said, waving a hand slightly confused.

Ron shot Harry an incredulous look. “Hi? You can’t say hi to Death!”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

Ron gaped, stumped. “I don’t know, but you just can’t!”

Death watched two of his favourite heroes argue over whether it was proper to be casual with the personification of death. This had never happened before, most people were too nervous of his presence to banter with anyone who they might have died with. But then, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter had never been completely normal.

“Have you finished?” Death asked, amused.

“Uh,” Ron stared white faced at Death. “Yes?” He asked weakly.

Death rolled his eyes, Weasley was far too nervous, why couldn’t the redhead act like Potter did? 

“So, I presume we’re dead?” Harry asked.

“Correct.” Death agreed complacently. 

There was a pause as Ron and Harry waited for Death to expand on the ‘how’ of their sudden deaths. Death stood in front of them bored, mortals took an unnatural long time in the acceptance of their loss of life.

Harry sighed in annoyance, “how?” He growled.

Death blinked, “how what?”

“How did we die?!” Ron demanded, no longer in awe of Death and instead trying to understand how he could have died at twenty-bloody-five years of goddamn age!

“Oh.” Death said eloquently, bemused by Weasley and Potter’s easy acceptance. That was unexpected. There was usually a lot more tears and platitudes involved. “Exploding toilet.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry asked stunned. “Did you just say we died from an exploding toilet?”

“Indeed.” Death agreed, twirling his scythe negligently. “That’s not why you are here, though.”

Ron glared at Death in annoyance. “And why are we here?”

“A second chance,” Death replied, getting far too much enjoyment out of Potter and Weasley’s twitching eyes.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Can you stop with the single word answers?” He complained plaintively.

“Yes.”

Ron ground his teeth. “Then explain!”

Death chuckled darkly and brushed a gaunt hand across the dark wood of the door beside him. “Potter is the Master of Death and so when he died he should have come to this room alone, however the trauma of your death dragged Weasley along for the ride; hence your presence in this room. As for where this room is; this is Limbo.”

Harry exchanged a surprised glance with Ron; whatever he had been expecting, that had not been it. “Okay, that makes sense; so, a second chance?”

Death cocked his head in amusement. Mortals were fun to toy with. “The Deathly Hallows were never meant to be a reward, they were a punishment.” 

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “So I gathered.”

“How do you figure that?” Ron asked.

“Everyone who owned one died shortly after.” Harry replied dryly.

“Indeed.” Death agreed. “Furthermore, it was because of the Deathly Hallows that Riddle focussed his attention upon you as a child. The Invisibility Cloak does not just conceal the wearer from all eyes but also drags the wearer and the wearer’s descendants into the spotlight. The Elder Wand does not just defend and defeat but also drags the user and the user’s descendants into any and all confrontation. The Resurrection Stone does not just revive and contact the dead but poisons the user and the user’s line with madness and the obsession with death.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “So that’s why everyone knew the name Potter regardless of the time or era.”

“And why Riddle was barking mad.” Harry added.

“And why Dumbledore fought three wars despite his age and incompetence.” Death agreed. “But all these benefits and detriments are magnified when one owns all three.”

Harry felt his stomach sink somewhere near his toes. “Crap.”

“Shit.” Ron added.

Death snorted in amusement. “I had expected you to join me almost immediately but then you did the unexpected, Harry Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow while Ron smirked. Death rolled his eyes at the two incredibly different reactions. “You refused to remain as Death’s master. You had not sought it and so you refrained from using any of my gifts selfishly or without cause.” 

Death could almost claim to be proud of the dark haired boy except that this decision made his existence infinitely more difficult. Ron grinned and clapped Harry on his shoulder and ruffled the green eyed boy’s hair. 

“Atta boy, Harry, always doing the unexpected,” Ron laughed.

“I’m so pleased you find this amusing, Weasley.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Death cleared his throat, “which brings me to my offer of a second chance.” He paused watching the duo’s sudden silence and intense focus; creepy, even by his standards. “Because you have died and because Potter is the Master of Death, however reluctantly, I am willing to revive you in an alternate universe where the Dark Lord was defeated by Neville Longbottom twelve years previously. You will not have family or anything else but you will have a chance for happiness in a universe unaffected by black magic.”

“So there is no Dark Lord?” Harry asked hopefully.

“None,” Death agreed.

“Will Hermione be there?” Ron asked.

“She will but she is already friends with your alter ego, Ronald Billius Weasley.” Death replied.

Harry blinked in surprise. “Alter ego?”

“You both have alternate selves in this universe, which means you will both be renamed.” Death replied, grinning darkly beneath his hood. Harry almost felt like shivering.

Ron was disappointed that Hermione would be unlikely to look at him twice while excited at the thought of another adventure. Eight years was a long time to not have an adventure in. Both boys hadn’t truly grown up after their school years, neither willing to settle down or do anything vaguely permanent. Peace time was incredibly boring.

“I’m in.” Harry grinned, excited.

Ron nodded enthusiastically, “yep.”

Death smirked as he pulled open the door and revealed a swirling blackness behind the wooden surface. “All you have to do is walk forwards and then you will be in the new universe. You will have all your memories plus the memories pertinent to your new life. Enjoy yourselves, Weasley and Potter, and remember to dust off your more adventurous side.”

Ron and Harry stepped through the door, grinning madly. They were Gryffindor’s and Gryffindor’s never back down from a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as busy as usual on September First; and no one paid attention to the two skinny second years, who had appeared quite suddenly in the midst of the hustle and bustle. Ron blinked rapidly trying to dislodge the feeling of dislocation while Harry shook himself like a dog. Two trunks lay at their feet and Harry was the first to move, the whistle of the train sending him into a flurry of movement as he dragged the insanely heavy trunk onto the train. Ron startled at Harry’s cry of pain when he barked his shin on the trunk he was dragging and immediately made to help his best friend.

“Fuck but this is ridiculous!” Harry groaned.

Ron laughed. “Well you’re too skinny and short mate, no wonder why you’re having so much trouble.”

“Piss off,” was Harry’s eloquent come back. 

Ron laughed again and together the duo managed to wrestle their trunks on board the Hogwarts express with minutes to spare. It took very little time to find a free compartment with no one in it. Harry grunted and strained as he tried to shove his trunk on the luggage rack before groaning and letting the heavy luggage fall onto the seat closest to the door.

“Was wondering when you were going to give up on getting the damn thing up there.” Ron grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So what do you remember?” Harry asked his redheaded friend as he dug through his trunk. Where was his bloody wand? Surely he had a wand. 

“Not much.” Ron grunted, digging through his own trunk. “Just a padded white room, meeting Death and finding out that we died from an exploding toilet.”

Harry paused at that, blinking rapidly. “Bit of a shameful way to go, really.”

Ron snorted in agreement. “Not wrong.”

“So what’s your name in this place then?” Harry asked casually as he finally extracted a long thin wand from his trunk. The grip and wood were very familiar to the green eyed boy, eleven inches of holly and phoenix feather. It was like coming home.

“You know, I haven’t thought about that, I mean Death did say we would have new names, didn’t he?” Ron mumbled, running careful fingers over his own wand of fourteen inches of willow and unicorn tail hair. “Good thing we have our wands,” Ron breathed in relief, sharing a smile with Harry as they rubbed the warm wood between their fingers. 

“Not wrong,” Harry agreed. “And do you think we really are in another universe, one parallel to our old one?”

“Must be,” Ron said. “I mean, we met Death!”

“Yeah, true,” Harry sighed. “So our names then, what do you think they are?”

“No idea, maybe the informations in our trunks?” Ron suggested as he tapped his wand on his temple. Harry went cross eyed as he stared at his own wand, searching for the chip in the wood that his old wand had. It wasn’t there.

“You know, I don’t think these are our original wands, Ron.” Harry informed his best mate.

Ron frowned, distracted once more from the topic of their identities. “What makes you say that?”

“No chip.” Harry sighed as he stood once more and started to dig through his trunk again. “You know the chip that wasn’t repaired by the Elder wand?”

Ron frowned deeply and watched Harry curiously, what was the green-eyed boy looking for now? “Yeah, I remember. Ollivander nearly killed you when he found out about the fate of the Elder wand.” Ron grinned.

“Bloody hell!” Harry exclaimed as he stared at the journal in his hands. The black leather was all too reminiscent of Tom Riddle’s diary and the name on the inside was awfully familiar. “Apparently my name is Harry Callahan.”

Ron barked a laughed, amusement lighting his eyes. “Death has a sense of humour, isn’t that the protagonist in that movie Hermione loved?”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Which one was that again?”

“Dirty Harry, remember?” Ron encouraged, his blue eyes shining with delight. “Man, Hermione loved that film!”

Harry snorted in amusement. “You’ve been muggle-fied my friend.”

“You've gotta ask yourself a question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk?” Ron challenged cheekily, grinning broadly.

“Punk?” Harry laughed. “What the fuck, man?”

“It’s a quote, dude, laugh it up; Dirty Harry is a fucking badass!” Ron replied, still grinning. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever man.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So who are you then?”

Ron blinked and then grinned, standing up to dig in his own trunk while Harry flopped lazily on the seat behind him. Ron’s journal was deep brown leather that smelt of cheap booze making Ron wonder at his living situation; flicking the book open he found his name and he frowned. What the hell?

“What the hell?” Ron muttered in confusion, the name sounded familiar. “Ronald Burgundy. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Anchorman!” Harry exclaimed excitedly, now that was a movie that had both recently come out and that he’d absolutely adored. It was funny as fuck! “You know: ‘And I’m Ron Burgundy. Go fuck yourself San Diego!’”

“Nah, I’ve got nothing.” Ron shrugged uselessly. “Another movie I take it?”

“Yeah, somehow I think there’s a theme going on here,” Harry smirked cheekily as he raked a hand through his wild black hair. 

“Ya bloody well think?” Ron demanded mock-confrontationally. 

Harry stood up and threw his arms wide. “And what are you gonna do about it, huh punk?”

The duo managed to last for all of about three minutes before collapsing backwards onto their seats and howling with laughter. Harry was doubled up, tears streaming down his face while Ron was red faced and wheezing. As the pair calmed slightly boredom stole over them and Ron heaved a sigh. Eight years of running around like crazy people chasing bad guys and getting pissed while out on the town, this forced serenity was driving him nuts.

“I’m bored, Harry.” Ron informed his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, me too, man. What are we gonna do?”

“No idea, you got an idea?” Ron asked.

Harry let his chin drop to his chest, thinking hard. Green eyes lit up and a devious grin split his face as he sat up straight and leant closer to the redheaded boy in front of him. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“Uh oh…” Ron trailed off, recognising the expression for what it was: trouble.

“It’s a bloody good idea,” Harry tempted his friend excitedly.

“Of course it is; you said that of pranking Shacklebolt last year and look where that got us!” Ron exclaimed dramatically.

“No, really,” Harry said grinning broadly. “I have a wicked idea!”

As Harry explained, complete with wild arm gestures, Ron quickly found himself grinning broadly; coz yeah, that was a bloody wicked idea. “I’m in!”

Thirty minutes later saw the pair of second-time first years digging through their trunks searching for some kind of money and crowing with excitement when they succeeded in finding around fifty galleons that they pooled together. 

Operation Frog was a go. 

X

It took Ron and Harry barely any time at all to find the Trolley Lady and even less time for the pair to con the poor elderly lady into giving them all of her supply of chocolate frogs. What made it even more genius was the fact that she hadn’t even started her rounds yet and so they had roughly three thousand chocolate frogs at their disposal. Although Harry was more than a little bemused at the Trolley Lady’s willingness to sell three thousand chocolate frogs to a pair of kids; did the magical world suck the common sense out of people, or what?

Grinning manically, Harry and Ron shrunk their ‘spoils of war’ and darted into their compartment to tinker with the confectionary. Pulling out their wands the two boys ran through their inventory of prank spells that would not only preserve the chocolate long enough that the frogs would be able to flood the train in a timely fashion; but also lengthen the charms that animated the confectionary. 

Four hours into the journey had all sixty shrunken cartons of chocolate frogs hidden in strategic places around the train (behind toilets, on luggage racks, inside trunks). Ron and Harry were sitting innocently in their compartment when the key phrase ‘Mischief Managed’ was uttered by Ron who was hard pressed not to cackled evilly at the thought of three thousand chocolate frogs attacking the students on the train. It wasn’t long before the homicidal frogs attacked and the hapless students started screaming.

Ron laughed and exchanged a triumphant grin with Harry. “We are genius!”

“That we are my friend.” Harry agreed gleefully. “No one’s going to believe that a couple of first years managed this!”

“Wait until they try stunning them!” Ron added practically blissful at the thought, stunning would cause the frogs to duplicate repeatedly while other spells would cause the frogs to explode, expand or be really, really noisy. Most spells, however, would have little to no effect at all; Ron and Harry had been incredibly inspired when it came to their first prank of this world. 

“Those aurors won’t know what hit them!” Ron gleefully exclaimed at the thought. Rumour had it that there were three aurors guarding the train this year. Ron wasn’t sure if it was true or not, however.

“Nor will the prefects!” Harry added delightedly thinking on the reactions of the three aurors and of the prefects (who were tasked with maintaining order); neither Ron nor Harry had figured out the reason for the aurors presence but both were interested to see how they reacted.

Ron grinned. “One can only hope so!” 

“Should we look to see what’s happening?” Harry asked his friend as several students fled past their compartment, their terror easily discerned between the shrieks and the curses.

Grinning, Ron slid the compartment door open and together the two boys stuck their heads out to stare at the chaos they had wrought. It was as though a bomb had gone off, there was chocolate everywhere and more than one female student was screaming over the mess in their hair of crying at their inability to vanish the chocolate from their clothing. Prefects were dashing about trying different spells, most of which had little to no effect on the jumping confectionary while other spells caused the chocolates to multiply or explode into further gooey mess. 

“We are frigging hilarious!” Ron chortled as a Slytherin seventh year dashed passed them, dripping melted chocolate her eyes blinded by the brown mess and her mouth smeared with the confectionary. Clearly she had tried to eat her way free of the chaos and when that hadn’t worked (probably because no one can eat three thousand chocolate frogs) had attempted to spell her way free. Ron was beside himself with laughter as he spun around, taking in the chaos; this was utterly brilliant!

“Yes we are!” Harry grinned as he leapt out of the way of a frog that must have been close to fifty pounds in weight, its deafening croaks nearly masking the frustrated yells and screams of their fellow students. Harry grabbed a frog from a nearby window, the animated chocolate wriggled and squirmed in his hands. “This is wicked! We are such genius’!”

“We are such dead genius’ if anyone finds out!” Ron corrected his best friend, his eyes dancing. He bent down, snatching up a smaller frog and biting off its head, chewing enthusiastically Ron grinned. “Tasty little bastards those frogs are!” 

“Yeah, they so totally are!” Harry agreed cheerfully. 

Ron and Harry felt their stomachs drop to the bottom of their shoes when hands gripped their shoulders and spun them around to meet the eyes of the three rumoured aurors tasked with guarding the train. Wide green and blue eyes met the steel grey of Sirius Black, the bespectacled hazel of James Potter and the muddy brown of Alastor Moody. Concealed amusement filled the trio of Aurors eyes as they stared down at two eleven year olds with unimpressed expressions.

“Crap.” Ron whispered as he stared at the greatest auror in the United Kingdom who he had seen murdered nine years ago.

“Seconded,” Harry agreed as he stared into the eyes of the man who could have been his father in another time for the first time in his life.

James Potter felt the corners of his mouth quirk in amusement and he could feel the slight tremors in Sirius’ frame that suggested his best friend wasn’t as composed as he was pretending to be. However James managed to remain somewhat serious as he frowned at the two trouble makers in front of him. “What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

Harry knew he shouldn’t, he really bloody shouldn’t but man, fuck was it way too tempting. “Want a chocolate frog sir?” He said completely innocent and serious as he offered the chocolate frog he had just swiped from the air. 

That was it; Sirius let out a muffled choke and darted into a nearby compartment where he barely managed to get up a silencing ward before howling with laughter. Outside James stifled the laughter that bubbled inside him and closed his eyes tightly while Alastor scowled hard enough that his face became a terrifying mask of scars and cuts. Neither kid jumped or flinched in the slightest; Alastor found himself more than a little impressed at that. Most kids couldn’t meet his eye let alone face him when he scowled. Brave little bastards, clearly they were Gryffs, far too brave to have any sense.

“Think you’re clever don’t you?” Alastor grunted gruffly watching the redhead kid widen his eyes further. “And don’t try that piss arse innocent scam on me, kid.”

Ron heaved a sigh and tilted his head to meet Harry’s eyes. “Well fuck me sideways, Callahan; I think we’ve been rumbled.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Moody, pouting slightly. “We didn’t mean to, sir.”

“Didn’t mean to?” Ron hissed at his friend, leaning close to him. “What the hell are you on about?”

Harry cast Ron a sideways glance, scandalised. “Shut up, idiot; I’m trying to get us off!”

James and Alastor concealed grins as the two second years began to ‘whisper’ in front of them. Neither twelve year old had managed to master the art that was whispering so their conversation was quite audible to both aurors. Finally, as the argument became both ridiculous and more than a little overt the aurors each grabbed a boy and pulled them up the front of the train, a recently recovered Sirius Black following them.

As Harry and Ron were escorted down the train they couldn’t help but grin at the sheer chaos around them. There wasn’t a compartment, window, student or surface not smeared with chocolate. It was awesome! Ron was grinning so broadly that he could barely keep from laughing at the hilarity of the moment and he cast a quick look to Harry who appeared to be equally proud of the destruction they had wreaked.

“Man, we are so fucking badass!” Harry gloated quietly.

The three aurors had to admit that the level destruction around them was impressive for a pair of second years who shouldn’t even know the spells required to pull this off. James and Sirius, in particular, felt annoyed that it had never occurred to them to do something similar during their own school years. Although the level of disarray on the Hogwarts express came on par with the Great Food Fight of ’77; which they had initiated. 

“McGonagall is going to have her hands full with these two,” Sirius murmured to James as they entered the teacher’s compartment of the train. It was a more recent addition, mainly because of the trio of aurors who were always in attendance on the express ever since the death threats against Neville Longbottom started coming through when the boy turned eleven and was allowed out of his grandmother’s house.

“You’re not kidding.” James agreed, watching as Alastor shoved the boys onto a low couch and stood above them scowling. “Somehow I think these two are going to be right little hellions.” 

Sirius snorted into his hand, trying to conceal a grin; he only wished his own son was as cheeky and free spirited as the two in front of him; but sadly Alphard was straight laced and serious, rarely smiling. James caught the sad glint in his best friend’s eyes and felt his lips thin unhappily; it was because of his own son that Alphie had such a hard time at Hogwarts. His own son ragged on Alphard Black with the express intent to cause the younger boy harm or pain; it was enough to drive James spare.

“Now then,” Alastor said firmly trying to not appear as amused or impressed to the pair of jokers in front of him and ignoring the quiet exchange between his colleagues. “What have you got to say for yourselves?”

Ron straightened and tried to appear serious. “I plead the fifth, the seventh and the ninth, sir.”

Alastor had certainly not been expecting that reaction. Seriously, wasn’t he intimidating the little hellions? Thrown for a loop, Alastor could only ask one question: “The fifth, seventh and ninth?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Alastor turned to his woodenly straight faced colleagues who had compressed mouths and twinkly eyes; great, so no help from them then. Lovely. “I think you had better explain your reasoning, kid.”

“I don’t think I have to without legal representation present,” Harry answered in a snotty tone that he had learnt from the year of stalk- following Draco Malfoy around. It wasn’t stalking, no matter what Ron might tell you.

“I don’t like the way you are detaining us either, I think this is all very suspicious and I have reason to wonder at your intentions, sir!” Ron added in his best ‘I know everything’ tone that he had learnt from his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Ron crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the surprised auror in front of him. 

“Is that kid threatening Alastor Moody?” Sirius asked James incredulously. 

James nodded slowly, more than a little impressed. “Yeah, I think he is.”

Alastor Moody however, was not impressed and he showed it as he loomed over the cocky duo on the couch. “What did you say?” He hissed while his madly rolling electric blue eye no longer whizzing in its socket to focus on the redheaded kid on the sofa. “Are you threatening me, kid?”

This was what Ron and Harry were waiting for as in unison the duo dissolved into tears; their big wet eyes pleadingly fixed on the two aurors who they knew were fathers. Like a light switch, James Potter and Sirius Black were no longer big bad auror’s and instead were protective and compassionate father-figures who swept the two eleven year olds into their arms and scowled darkly at the bewildered Moody.

“We- we- didn’t mean too!” Harry wailed as he pressed his face into Sirius’ chest, his little body shaking from the force of his sobs. 

“We know, we know!” James soothed while Sirius tried to loosen Harry’s choke hold on his robes. “It’s okay, nothing’s going to happen to you boys, we promise.”

“Really?” Ron whimpered, rubbing his face on the robes of the man who could have been Harry’s dad.

“Really, really!” Sirius assured the two boys, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly. “There, there kiddo, see, it’s not so bad. Moody was just messing around, don’t you worry.”

Moody stared in stunned amazement as he caught the smug smirk that Harry shot him through a gap between Sirius’ arms. A trick he had picked up from Dudley over the years; only he was far more cunning than Dudley Dursley could ever be. Moody was furious.

“Potter, Black! Stop this, they’re playing you!” Alastor shouted angrily, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t picked up on the pair’s deception earlier. 

Harry let out a small wail again and hid his face once more. Sirius tightened his arms around the skinny black haired boy and remembered when his own son would come to him after a nightmare, body shaking in fear. James shared a compassionate glance with his friend and looked at the little redhead who was curled up in his arms, his own son had grown out of this by the time he was nine; what he wouldn’t give for his son to come to him for one more hug.

“Alastor, leave it, you’re scaring them!” James ordered, sending the other man out of the compartment. Alastor grumbled unhappily before doing as he was told catching one last mischievous grin shot at him by the green eyed trickster. The duo were very good, he’d give them that.

 

X

It wasn’t until the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmede Station that either James or Sirius let the pranking pair go. Harry and Ron were quick to disappear into the throng, their robes hanging messily off their shoulders as they ran for the carriages. Even though they were new students who technically should be joining the first years as they crossed the lake in the boats, Harry and Ron felt that the sheer fact that it was absolutely bucketing down with rain was enough reason to skip out on that tradition.

Hogwarts stood in all her magnificence above them and both Harry and Ron felt the wards swirl around them like a mothers hug. Hogwarts was welcoming them home. Grinning, Harry and Ron slipped from the carriages and followed a group of sixth years into the Great Hall, the splendour of the décor made both boys laugh out loud as they shoved each other cheerfully. 

“Which house should we sit at?” Harry asked his friend cheekily.

Ron smirked broadly. “Which house are we going to be sorted into?”

Harry shot his best friend a dry look, “Gryffindor.”

“Naturally,” Ron agreed cheerfully. “No other place I’d rather be!”

Decided, the duo slipped on to the benches beside a pair of fifth year prefects and tried to look as though they belonged. As the rest of the school filtered in, Harry and Ron spent their time nudging each other like the immature brats that they were. Across from them, a boy who looked a hell of a lot like Sirius Black watched them with a scandalised expression while the boy beside him, a boy who had light brown hair and tired looking eyes, was clearly trying not to grin.

“Well, well, well, what have we here, boys?” A cheerful voice broke through Harry and Ron’s scuffle.

Green and blue eyes shifted upwards to meet a pair of grinning redheaded twins and a boy with dreadlocks. Harry gaped at the sight of Fred and George Weasley covered in chocolate. Ron was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Man, what the fuck happened to you two?” Ron blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lee Jordan choked at the language the kid used without thought and grinned at the twin’s expressions. It wasn’t every day the twins were pranked and both Fred and George had tracked the prank down to the duo in front of them. Fred smirked while George cocked his head to the side, twins they might be, but even they had their identifying quirks.

“We were pranked by person’s unknown-” Fred began.

“And word on the street says-” George continued.

“You had something to do with it.” The twins said in unison.

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance; it was time to employ the most noble and oldest of pranking traditions: deny, divert, and confuse the hell out of the opposition.

“Who us?” They said in unison smiling innocently.

Fred narrowed his eyes. “Yes you.”

“Couldn’t be,” Harry dismissed, smirking slightly. Were the twins really going to fall for this?

“Then who-” but before George could finish his accusation, Ron cut in with: “Stole the cookie from the cookie jar?”

There was a dumbfounded silence while Ron and Harry beamed innocently up at the redheaded twins. Lee was ginning so broadly that it had to hurt while the brown haired boy across the table from Harry and Ron was choking on his attempts to muffle his laughter. Only the dark haired boy was unimpressed.

“What-”

“The-”

“Actual-”

“Bloody-”

“Fuck?!” The twins alternated between confusion and bemusement.

Harry and Ron smirked. “Mischief managed.” They replied, swinging back around in their seats to stare at their plates so that they wouldn’t burst into laughter.

The twins stood behind the two first years in bewilderment feeling as though they had just fallen to yet another prank but not actually knowing whether they had or not. The Great Hall doors swung open once more and this time it was Professor McGonagall with the new first year students. The Weasley twins scowled but swiftly seated themselves further along the Gryffindor table to both Ron and Harry’s vast amusement. 

Harry nudged Ron pointedly as McGonagall scanned the hall once more, as though she was looking for something.. or someone. “Reckon we should get up before or after the Sorting?”

Ron snorted in clear amusement, “and miss out in making an entrance?”

Harry grinned and nodded, “good point, good point,” he agreed.

Behind them, Lee Jordan closed his eyes in dismay, “we’re all going to die,” he predicted in a mock-depressed tone, “now there’s two more of them…”

Harry and Ron just grinned innocently in reply.


End file.
